Jail Break
by Roaddog 469
Summary: Am I the only one who wondered how exactly Ritchie managed to bust Seth out of jail? I mean he wasn't *real* capable. So here is my take on it...added a new character. The real brains behind the break out. Enjoy! Please R/R...
1. Part One

Part One

"Order! Order!" the rotund man behind the bench shouted as the prisoners were marched in, shackled and chained. There had been ten other cons on the bus with Seth Gecko on the road from Rollins. Glancing up and down the line, he wondered if any of them suspected that they would have the shot at freedom in about fifteen minutes. 

"Order! I said, 'Order!" he shouted again. The courtroom, crawling with reporters, reluctantly quieted. "You prisoners," he said, out of breath, and red-faced, "take your seats." A rattling of chains followed as eleven shackled inmates settled into the front row of seats. Glancing back at the cameras, Seth smirked as he thought of the show they were about to see. 

"First order of business," the Honorable Judge Harold J. Bland began. Seth zoned out at this point, but was brought back into reality, by someone whispering his name behind him. 

"Seth…Seth," the voice persisted. He slowly turned, encountering the beaming face of a bright-eyed blond. He raised one eyebrow at her. "So what do you think?" she asked. "First hearing after nine years, think you have any chance at your second trial?"

He stared at her, bursting to tell her that he didn't give a shit about the second trial. He didn't, however, he merely stared at her until she began to squirm in her seat, then he smirked, "Guess I have as good a chance as anybody," he replied coolly. 

"Look here, now, young lady," Bland, still red-faced, shouted at the reporter, "that man is a dangerous criminal. Now you just back away now, y'hear?" Seth winked at her as she scooted back in her seat. "And you, Mr…." He trailed off as he searched through files to match a face with a name. "Mr. Gecko, the only person you are speaking to is me and your lawyer, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Seth replied, slouching down into his chair, amused by the way that the vein in the judge's forehead bulged and pulsed. He smiled at the thought of him having a heart attack here in the middle of the court. 

"Alright, now, let's get this started. First case is The State of Kansas vs. Peter Floyd Everett…" 

Once again Seth's mind started to wander as Bland read off the pros and cons of Everett's case. Thinking of how exactly they were going to make it to Mexico after he got out of here. Just getting though the state alone would be hard, but making it across the border seemed damn near impossible. Just had to hope that Ritchie didn't get the itch going through Texas and leave a string of bodies behind for the authorities to follow. He was going to have to keep an eye on him. 

The squeak of the courtroom door drew Seth out of his daze, and he turned to see a woman. With Pageboy cut blond hair, dark glasses, a black overcoat and a cane, she slowly made her way up the aisle. Tap-tap-tap went the cane as she walked toward the small swinging door that separated the gallery from the floor of the court. There was another small squeak, as the swinging door was pushed open. Looking to the side of the door, Seth spotted a tall man in the front row. Even the sunglasses and ball cap couldn't disguise him though. Ritchie, he thought to himself, smiling, this is it.

Bland stopped his rant mid-sentence when he saw this woman wandering up to his bench, "Ma'am." She continued walking, now sweeping one hand out to the right as if searching for someplace to sit. "Ma'am!" he shouted, more pointedly. 

"Is he talking to me?" she asked quietly, as if there was someone standing beside her that would answer her.

"Yes, ma'am, you. Would you kindly step back into the gallery, and off of the floor of my court."

Her fair skin blushed crimson. "I'm sorry, sir. They wouldn't let me bring my dog into the courtroom. I was just sure that something like this was going to happen. I'm very sorry, sir. I'll just turn around," once again her hand swept out to the side as if looking for a landmark to walk along, "and I'll step back out of here."

"Hold on a second there, miss," Bland responded. She paused in mid-stride. "Bailiff, will you please help this young woman to find a seat in the gallery, there."

"Thank you, your honor," she said, gripping the handle of her cane. She swept out with one hand, searching for the arm of the bailiff. Once he reached her, she grasped his forearm, and pulled herself to him, as he led her back towards the gallery. 

"And now, to move along…" Bland began, but was cut off once again. His bailiff issued a bloodcurdling scream, as the tiny blind woman stabbed him through the heart with a small sword like blade that had been encased in her cane. Pushing the bailiff off of her blade, she also stabbed a charging prison guard. 

Chaos erupted in the courtroom as spectators shrieked and headed for the door. Ritchie blended into the mass exodus, getting outside to ensure their quick escape when his 'blind' partner managed to get Seth outside. 

All of the press scrambled for the doors…all but the bright-faced blond reporter who had prodded Seth before all of this; she and her cameraman hunkered down at the rear of the courtroom and watched the carnage unfold.

"Seth," the 'blind' blond yelled, tossing a handgun to him. Catching it, Seth in turn fired twice into the chest of another guard who was raising his gun to fire. "Hold 'em down, baby, I'm getting the door," she shouted. Pulling another gun from the inner lining of her coat, she tossed a second arm to Seth, who kept both muzzles trained on the bailiff and the remaining guards. Pulling another gun from her coat, she tucked it into her jeans as she strode up to the judge's bench. 

She grabbed the old man by the collar and yanked him over the desk. She then proceeded to drag him to the door. Pulling a length of rope from her pocket, she then tied the judge's left hand to the left side of the door frame and his right hand to the right side of the door frame. "Now, your honor, sir," the blond whispered to him. "Any second now, the forces of law and order are going to try to come through this door. If they succeed they will rip your arms out of socket, now you can avoid all of that pain, by simply handing me your keys so we can lock these sum-bitching doors. I'd say you have about fifteen to twenty seconds to make up your mind."

"In my pocket!" he cried. "In my left pant pocket." She confiscated the keys and used them to lock the courtroom's deadbolts. She reached into her shirt, securing the keys in her bra, and no sooner had she stepped back did the door handles begin to turn. 

"Shit," came the muffled cry from the other side of the door. "It's locked we're gonna have to break it down."

"No!" Bland cried. "You can't break it down, you morons. They got me tied spread-eagle in front of it. If you break it down you'll rip me in half."

"I expect that will keep them guessing for a few moments at least," the blond stated plainly. "What do you think, sugar?" she continued, looking Seth up and down. He smirked back at her. "Why don't you step out here?"He raised his hands, causing the chains connected to them to clank. "Oh, right," she began, as she pulled the gun out of her jeans. "Seth, keep an eye on this bailiff while I sort out these two?" she said gesturing to the two prison guards

She sauntered up to them. "Ok, boys," she began, casually resting the elbow of her gun hand in the palm of her other hand, "now which one of you has the keys to the cuffs?" she asked trailing the gun back and forth from one of their heads to the other. They both stood stoically silent. "Don't feel like talkin'?" she asked, sweetly. Still nothing. "Ok, fine," she said taking a few steps back from them. "I'm giving you three seconds to say something, or I blow your brains all over that wall behind you." As she finished the last part of this sentence she leveled the gun at the head of the bigger of the two guards. "One, two, three." As she finished, she deftly pulled the trigger, sending a pellet of hot lead into the cranial cavity of the stubborn guard. 

A round of cheers erupted amongst the inmates as the body hit the ground. Now turning her gun, she repeated her demands to an almost teary, shocked, second guard. "Same question as before, darlin'. Who has the keys to their cuffs?"

"He did," the guard said, beginning to blubber, and pointing at the dead body of the first guard. 

"Thank you," she said, lowering her gun, and firing into the kneecap of the second guard. He yowled in pain as he fell to the floor. "Maybe now you'll answer questions when someone asks you something," she shouted over his cries, as she walked over to the dead guard. She patted around on his belt until she came to a ring of keys. Yanking them off, she tossed them to the bailiff, "Cut 'em loose," she demanded. The bailiff approached on shaky legs. "Him first," she continued, as she nodded at Seth. The bailiff complied and removed the wrist and ankle restraints from Seth and as the cold iron hit the floor the relief in Seth's face was visible.

"Damn good to see you, Tommy," he said, as he walked up to her. Wrapping his arm around her waist he pulled her against him, close enough that she could feel that his eyes weren't the only part of him applauding her arrival. She locked her arms around his neck, and pulled his mouth onto hers. Locking lips, she allowed his tongue to explore her mouth, before she responded by jamming hers into his. Warm sensations that she had almost forgotten that he caused in her coursed through her system and she threw one leg around his waist, unwilling to let go.

Nine years, nine fucking years she had been waiting for this. She had known the first time that she kissed Seth that he was the one for her, and since he had gotten locked up, she had been damn near celibate…except for once or twice when business called for getting a little closer than she would have liked. 

Bringing her back to her senses, Seth pulled back to catch his breath. Grinning, he knocked his head into hers, and she grinned back. "You got a plan for getting out of here?"

"Wouldn't be much of a rescue if I didn't, now, would it?" she replied, smiling. Turning to the rest of the inmates, who were now all free of chains, the bailiff cowered in front of them, obviously terrified. "Sir," she began, " I'm going to chain you to one of these benches. You don't need to worry." Locking the cuffs in place she stood and turned her attention back to Bland. "Seth, keep an eye on them, will you?" she said walking away from him, towards Bland. "Now as for you," she said stopping directly in front of him, and fired once into his foot. He screamed and screamed, and then she fired once more. He continued screaming at a higher pitch until he finally passed out. She stepped forward to check his pulse. Still alive, just unconscious. Perfect. She then turned her attention to the reporter and the cameraman. "Get enough footage?" she asked heatedly.

The reporter nodded mutely, mouth agape, and scared to the point that she might wet herself. 

"Good then, what I propose is this. You stay put for ten minutes and give us the time to get away, and you have my permission to play that until your tape machines wear out. But," she said crouching down in front of them, she grabbed the reporter's purse, and rifled through her wallet until she found her license. "Now, I know where you live…and if you open that door before the ten minutes is up. I. Will. Hunt. You. Down. Agreed?"

She nodded, agreeably, but from the look on the face of the cameraman he wasn't going to go along with that. Narrowing her eyes at him, Tommy slammed her gun into his face, breaking his nose and rendering him unconscious. The blond reporter flinched. "Agreed?"

"Agreed," she croaked.

"Ok, then," Tommy replied, smiling, as she stood. Walking back to Seth, she paused behind the bailiff, just long enough to slam her gun into the back of his head sending him into the dark fuzzy realms of unconsciousness. Seth stood over the kneecapped prison guard. Bleeding and screaming, this guard was really starting to get on Tommy's nerves. Tommy walked over and punched him square in the face, silencing him, finally. 

Looking up, fiercely, she noticed that the blond reporter had risen to her knees and was trying to see what was going on. "Seth," she said, loud enough for the reporter to hear, "can you come here for a second, sugar?" Seth approached her, and she whispered into his ear. He nodded and started towards the reporter. 

"You wanted to know how I felt about the second trial?" he asked, conversationally as he approached. She nodded slowly, not sure if she wanted to answer him. "Well," he began, "this is how I feel," as he finished his statement he crashed his fist into her eye, knocking her back, unresponsive.

"Alright, you boys," Tommy said gesturing at the inmates, "follow me." She strode back behind the judge's bench, and opened the door leading to his chambers. "The last door on the left down this hallway will lead you into the alley. In the alley is a van, ready to take you all across the line into Mexico. Now go." Too anxious for freedom to ask questions, the convicts took off down the hall. After the last one entered, Tommy locked the door behind them. 

Tommy made her way back to Seth, slipping the trench coat off in the process. Once it hit the ground she kicked it towards Seth. "There's a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in one of the inside pockets. Strip and put them on. We only have a minute or two in here, then we're off to the lobby."

"And walk out into the cops? Have you lost your fucking mind? I'll get picked up in two seconds."

"Sugar, they're looking for Seth Gecko, not Sara Gecko," she said bending to pick up the trench coat. Reaching into one of the pockets she produced a pillowcase with oranges sewed into each end. "They'll be a little hard if anyone bumps into you, but we'll just say you had implants." Wrapping the body of the pillowcase around his neck, the oranges dropped to his chest. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Perfect fit." She tossed the trench coat to him and he pulled the shirt and jeans out of the pocket. She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled off her shirt to reveal a bottom layer of clothes.

"Nobody is gonna buy me as a chick," Seth said pulling the shirt on, and adjusting his oranges. 

"Sure they will," she said, walking over to him, helping with his breasts. "As long as you don't say anything, and you wear this," she finished, pulling her blond hair off and handing it to him, allowing her own blazing red hair to fall to her shoulders, full and curly.

"Was wondering if you had really cut it just for me," he said placing it on his head.

"Please," she said, helping him adjust the wig, "I love you, but not that much." She picked up his jumpsuit and her change of clothes, wrapped them in the trench coat along with their guns and tossed the whole thing behind the judge's bench. The authorities would find it eventually, but not before she and Seth made it out of the building. "Now we just wait. They'll catch the others in a minute, and then they'll come in the back way. We're innocent bystanders so all we have to do is let them take us out. And Ritchie is waiting outside with a car."

"Not bad, T. I would have done better, but still not bad."

"Well thanks, Seth, I appreciate that." 


	2. Part Two

Part Two

Seth and Tommy walked to the back of the courtroom, and knelt, putting their heads on the floor, and their hands laced behind their heads. In seconds the back door was thrown open and boots clunked towards them. 

When the first cop laid his hands on Tommy she shrieked. "God don't kill me! I haven't seen you," she shouted, closing her eyes tight, "We haven't seen you! God, please!" As she continued her antics, Seth began to think that maybe she should have looked into acting as a career instead of crime. 

"Miss," an authoritative voice replied, shouting, trying to get her under control. "Miss! I'm a police officer. I'm not going to kill you. You can open your eyes."

Slowly, Tommy cracked her lids, just enough to see the badge. "Oh my God! I thought we were dead. They went out the back, I heard something about an alley and Mexico, my God you have to get them," she rambled on until the cop managed to get a word in.

"Miss, we got them already. You'll be all right. Don't worry."

"Oh thank, God," she said as she surveyed the scene. Police walking back and forth from victim to victim trying to rouse them. She could only pray that she and Seth would get them out before someone woke up. Their disguises were good, but she didn't want to chance someone recognizing them. 

"And we're gonna get you out of here. Do you mind if I ask why you didn't try to run when all of this started?"

"My sister," she said indicating Seth, who had sat up next to her, "tried to get me to go, but I was so scared I just froze." The cop eyeballed Seth silently for a few seconds. 

Tommy was just tensing up to spring, when the cop responded, "Well, I imagine it would be rather frightening for you little ladies," he ran a finger down Seth's face, and Tommy had to turn away to avoid laughing. "Just let us get the judge down off the door and we'll get you out of here." He stood then and started for the door where several other officers were already untying the judge from the door. 

"It's not funny, Tommy," Seth hissed under his breath. "If he asks me for my phone number, I'll hand him his nuts on a platter."

"Very feminine, Seth, just keep it in your pants for a little while longer, and we'll be out of here."

"Owww, Goddammit!" Bland yelled in agony as they lowered him to the ground.

"Shit," Tommy said just loud enough for Seth to hear, "he's awake. That's all we need. If he recognizes us, we're fucked."

"He isn't even going to see us, baby. We'll be fine," Seth tried to comfort.

"Ok," one of the cops yelled, "let's get these doors open, get the paramedics in here. Where are your keys, judge?"

"That bitch that shot me got them. I don't have them."

"Did she take them with her?"

"Shit," Tommy said, under her breath, "I still have the keys."

"Well, get rid of them," he hissed in response. Tommy slowly slipped her hand in her bra and pulled the keys out. She set them on the ground and prepared to slide them. She drew a deep breath, and coughed several times, masking the sound of the metal sliding across the wooden floor.

"How the hell do I know?" the judge shouted in response to the cop's question, "Christ, get me some morphine!"

"Excuse me," Tommy dared to ask quietly. The cop walked over and leaned down to hear her. "How much longer? I – I don't feel too good."

"Well, we need keys to open the door. If we find them then it won't be long, but if we have to break down the door…" he trailed off, leaving the possibilities open.

"Keys?" Tommy asked, quietly, so the judge wouldn't hear her. "You mean like those, there?" she asked pointing.

The cop didn't respond merely picked up the keys and tried them in the lock, which clicked, obligingly, open. Two paramedics burst in, with a gurney to take the judge away on. Loading him onto it, they placed an oxygen mask over his face.

Another two paramedics burst through the door, and headed to the back of the courtroom to tend to the kneecapped guard. Tommy stood slowly, and Seth followed suit. They made their way to the door. So close to freedom, Seth was nearly intoxicated by the scent.

"Ok, ladies, you can go, now," the cop said, ushering them out. "You've had a hell of a day."

"Yes, sir," Tommy replied, passing the judge's gurney. "Been one of those days that will keep you guessing."

The phrase caught in the judge's ears, as he looked up to see who had said it. Her hair was different, but the eyes were the same. That was the crazy bitch that shot him. He tried to say it, but no one could make out his words through the mask. He reached up to remove it but the paramedics kept telling him to calm down.

Tommy saw the recognition in the judge's eyes and she pushed Seth through the lobby. Hurrying now, trying to get out of law's reach before the judge finally managed to convince them to remove the oxygen mask. There were the doors. The doors out. The doors to freedom. 

She pushed Seth out the door first, and she chanced one last look back. The overfriendly cop ran out of the courtroom, looking around frantically as if he were searching for someone. She covered her face quickly, wishing for the first time in her life that her hair wasn't red. "Stop!" he shouted as he started towards her. Ducking out the door, Tommy spotted Seth.

"Seth," she yelled. He was already halfway down the steps, nearly to the car. He turned. "Don't stop! Run! Get to the car!" she screamed as she broke into a sprint behind him. He dove into the front seat after opening the back door for her to get in. She could hear Ritchie revving the engine as she approached.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" the cop yelled from behind her.

_Fuck you_, she thought to herself. Six feet from the car, she heard the shot. At first the stabbing sensation in her back puzzled her. She knew that she had heard a shot, so where was the pain from the --…the thought barely finished crossing her mind when her midsection erupted. The flames of anguish began in her back and quickly moved through her abdominal cavity. Unable to cope, she dropped onto her face. 

"Tommy!" she heard Seth scream, as another shot hit one of the windows of the car. "Get up, baby!"

"Go, Seth. Go, now!" she had no more gotten the words out when she felt his strong hands on her midsection, lifting her and dragging her into the back seat.

"Go, Ritchie!" Seth shouted into the front seat. She heard the tires squeal as Ritchie peeled out. 

"How bad is she?" Ritchie asked from the front seat.

"You just worry about driving. I'll worry about her," Seth said, his voice thick.

_No way is he crying_, Tommy thought to herself, as she twisted in pain. Opening her eyes, she saw that he was on the verge of tears but none had fallen yet. "Fuck," she yelled. "I can't believe this. I'm shot. I'm fucking shot and now I'm going to die in the back of this piece of shit car," she yelled kicking the door. 

"You're not going to die, Tommy," Seth said, his voice a little stronger. He reached into his shirt and pulled the pillowcase out. Smacking Tommy in the head with one of the oranges, in the process.

"Ow," she said weakly, raising a hand to her head.

"Sorry," he replied.

"Don't bullshit me, Seth. I hate bullshit. I'm gut shot, and I'm bleeding like a son of a bitch. I don't even feel anything below my chest, so don't bullshit me. I'm dying."

"She needs a doctor," Ritchie added from the front seat.

"We don't have time for a doctor, Ritchie. You've got to ditch these fucking cops," Tommy argued from the back seat.

"I think I've lost them for now."

"Stop on a busy street and jack another car, Ritchie," Seth told him. "They'll have a description of this one."

"Good idea, Seth," Tommy conceded. "But leave me in this one when you switch."

"No fucking way," Seth replied. "You just busted my ass out of jail, no way am I gonna leave you for the fucking cops to find."

"I'm just gonna slow you down, Seth. Leave me, dammit."

"Shut up. That one Ritchie, the one that guy is getting into." Without looking up, Tommy felt the car stop. 

"Even if we do get out of here, Seth. I'm not gonna make it far, and don't you think that's going to attract a little attention. Driving around the countryside with a dead body in the back seat?"

"I'd keep you in the trunk, 'til we could ditch you, Tommy," he replied, trying to be funny, but she could see him smiling that smile of his that was about 25% smile and about 75% grimace.

"And then what? You don't think anyone would recognize my body? Then you'd have a trail, and they'd know where you were headed. Just leave me, Seth." 

"Shut up," he replied, looking over the seat to see if Ritchie was going to fuck this up. Reaching down Tommy's fingers found the small arsenal that she and Ritchie, knowing they would need all the firepower they could get, had stocked before this little endeavor. She grabbed the butt of a small handgun, and held it tight. Outside she heard a gunshot, as Ritchie no doubt blew the head off of the car's owner. 

"Seth, grab the guns and I'll clear out this back seat," Ritchie shouted from beyond her sight. 

Seth leaned over her to grab an armful of guns. His body heat warmed Tommy's already cooling body, as she inhaled a lungful of his scent. Damn, she would miss that. His arms full, he started out of the car. "Seth," Tommy began.

"Yeah, Tommy?" he said.

"Kiss me?" she replied her voice thick with blood. He recognized the pleading in her eyes, and even though he hated to admit it, he knew that this could be the last thing she ever asked him for. 

"Ritchie," he shouted handing the guns over, Ritchie disappeared from view again. Seth narrowed his eyes at her as he leaned close. She reached up and brushed the wig off of his head, taking in the vision of him. He pressed his lips to hers, and Tommy relished in the electric volts racing up and down her spine at the thrill of his last touch.

The sound of approaching sirens caused him to break away, "Let's go," Seth said, softly.

"Don't bother," Tommy said, raising her handgun to Seth's firm abs. Recognizing the feel of a .38 pressed to his belly, he backed up, trying to figure this out.

"Tommy?"

"Go, Seth," she said in as strong a voice as she could manage. "Go or I'll shoot you myself."

"You won't shoot me," he said confidently.

"The hell I won't, Seth," she said, pulling back the hammer, preparing to fire. "Those aren't rescue sirens coming this way. Those are cops. Now do you want another fifty years added onto your sentence? And with me and Ritchie in jail, too? Who the hell is going to bust us out? Get the hell out of here."

"You won't shoot me, Tommy, and I'm not leaving without you," he said inching towards her.

Tears began to well up in her eyes, "Don't make me do this, Seth. Please, don't make me do this."

"Just put the gun down and you won't have to."

"Seth," she whispered, "please, just go. Don't make me do it." He reached one hand out for the gun. Seeing his movement, Tommy moved the muzzle of the gun from his face to under her chin.

"No!" Seth screamed, lunging for the gun, but it was too late. The gunshot rang out crisp in the city street. 

Ritchie stood half-in and half-out of the new car, looking back, "What the hell was that?"

Not quite registering Ritchie's question, Seth surveyed the brain matter splattered all over the window. He looked up, as the sound of the sirens got closer. _Get the hell out of here!_ Tommy's words rang through his clouded mind and snapped him into action. 

He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his t-shirt, and with a shaky hand he reached up and took the still-smoking .38 from Tommy's hand. He stood, with all intentions of throwing the damn thing as far as he could, but something made him hold fast to it. 

Then and there he decided that this was the gun that was going to keep him alive until he and Ritchie got to El Rey. Seth didn't know it at the time, but that .38…the very same one that had taken Tommy from him was going to, in about two days, save him and a young girl from a bar full of hungry vampires. 


End file.
